Old
by darkangel38
Summary: Forty years later House and Wilson are playing checkers in a retirement home. Intended one shot, but who knows. Edit: No longer a one shot! :
1. Chapter 1

"You cheat."

"I do not."

"You took my piece when that guy bumped into me, I saw you."

"It's not my fault you're senile."

House and Wilson sat and played checkers. Both sitting comfortably in a wheelchair, they hunched over the game board like the winner was going to get a free pepperoni pizza. House had in fact cheated at the game, but Wilson always won without even trying, so he felt he deserved to feel defeat this time.

"See, this is why you always lose. You took the wrong piece." Wilson grinned as much as his wrinkly face would let him and he hopped over two of House's pieces, his red piece about to be kinged on House's side.

House grumbled and leaned back in his chair.

"I don't want to play anymore."

"King me."

"I said I don't want to play anymore." House crossed his arms and looked to the side.

An elderly woman was getting a spongebath. He wrinkled his nose and turned the other way.

"Don't be a baby and king me," Wilson took House's pieces off the board and set them in a nice neat row on his side of the table. Always so organized.

House sighed loudly to make a point and Wilson stared at him waiting patiently for his piece to be kinged. He could have easily done it himself but wanted the satisfaction of seeing House stack the pieces together.

Forty years ago, they wouldn't have been wasting time playing a game of Checkers. House would have been breaking the rules to save a life, and Wilson would have been trying to cure cancer. The two doctors had gotten older though, as all people did, and now held residence at a Retirement Home.

House lifted his right arm and kinged Wilson's rightful piece.

"I thought you weren't playing anymore."

"I'm not."

"You're just mad because you got your dessert taken away-"

"That wasn't my fault. All we get is a microscope pudding cup. I'm not that old, why not give me a honking piece of devil's food. I still have all my teeth," House moved his next black piece on the board, back in the game it seemed.

"You're just jealous because the nurse likes me better," Wilson smirked, coughed, and then moved his own piece.

"Oh please, she's got to be sixty years old. I would demand my plug be pulled before even nearing that woman with my ten foot cane."

Wilson didn't respond right away but looked down at the board, and then snuck a peek at House who was staring intently at the board himself, contemplating his next move.

"You know.. Cameron is in her sixties by now." The corners of his mouth were almost turned into a grin as he waited for his friend's response.

House's shoulders and arms shuddered dramaically as if a brisk winter wind had swept through the recreation hall and right up his spine. He hadn't thought of Cameron in decades, but still remembered her now as she had been back then. Not that anything had really come of them two, but Wilson was right, she would be old and menopausal right now.

"I could still hit that," House mumbled back and jumped Wilson's piece, even though his opponent hardly noticed.

"Do you seem to be forgetting the fact that you're 85 years old? You couldn't hit anything unless it was deceased and lying on a gurney and that would still be without consent."

"Calling me a necrophiliac, real nice. Yes that's right. Every night when you're falling asleep in your wheelchair with the broken wheel, I'm sneaking off all in black to the morgue to jump on some bodies. Good thing I was a doctor because for decades I stashed 'little blue pills' in a secret drawer in my desk, and now the scheming is all paying off," House said seriously and hopped another one of Wilson's pieces.

"Well.. thanks for that information. I will kindly wheel myself over to Bernie and Ester over there and warn them about your erotic fantasies involving having your way with their corpses," Wilson turned his chair to the side and motioned towards the elderly couple sitting at a table staring off into space.

"Oh don't bother Bernie and Ester.. It's Rupert I have my eye on." House turned his glance to a feeble old man standing in the middle of the room clutching onto an IV pole for dear life. "Yummy," he added sarcastically.

Wilson glanced at Rupert briefly and then back at the game board. In the time they had rambled on about nothing, House had stolen two of Wilson's pieces without him noticing.

"You're cheating again; Do you really need to win Checkers that bad?"

"Look, I was old then, and I'm even older now. Beating you at checkers is my dying wish. After I waste your butt with my fabulous skills, I can die satisfied."

Wilson moved one of his last pieces not even really caring that he should have had at least four more on the board. Silence for about a minute and then he eyed House sitting across from him.

White hair, wrinkled face to hell, but the eyes had stayed the same. He could read those eyes like a bad science-fiction novel.

"Betty hasn't been in your room has she?" he raised his eyebrow.

House simply stared at him, the corners of his mouth almost twitching into a smile.

"Betty's been giving you tips! I knew it! You are truly pathetic, you know that," Wilson accused and leaned back with an amused sigh.

House shook his head and started to defend himself.

"Leave poor Betty out of this. She may be needing serious medication for the little people she sees running around, but she can make pleasant conversation like the rest of these old lunatics."

"You're the old lunatic," Wilson muttered and jumped one of House's remaining pieces, sliding the black piece over to his neat row.

"Only when it comes to checkers, my friend. And I believe.. Yes I think I may believe that I have just won."

House took Wilson's last piece and held up the red piece like a trophy, the checkerboard now covered in black.

"Only because you cheated like six times," Wilson smirked and gave him a half smile.

"I resent that accusation. Shall we check the video tape? Oh that's right, there is no real evidence. Boo Jimmy, making up stories is bad," House twirled the winning piece around his fingers like he used to do with his cane 'back in the day'. Now he had been upgraded to a snazzy wheelchair. Which he never wanted of course. He would have rather been beat with his own walking stick than roll around in a chair with a plaid blanket on his lap.

Wilson crossed his arms and stared at the old fart sitting across from him.

"Another game?" he asked and gestured towards the board.

"Not on your life. I have retired undefeated. And it's about time," House answered smugly.

"Oh stop being a baby and make up the board," Wilson started placing his pieces back on their correct squares.

"Fine, but I'm still being black. You cursed the color red."

----

**A/N:** Yes I know House would never be in a retirement home, so don't start throwing fire balls about that lol. I just thought "What if".


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter dedicated to AilciA, because without that little idea she threw into her review I wouldn't have continued:)**

"The pollen stimulates the ovaries to produce eggs, which the queen lays in batches of 4 - 16 on the ball of pollen, this is then covered with wax." A british woman's voiceover was heard loudly out of the small television speakers.

"The ball of pollen with the eggs is placed within reach of the honey pot; this enables the queen to brood the eggs and drink honey at the same time."

"Oh Lord," House groaned and rolled his head back as the image of a few bumblebees clumped together appeared on the screen doing.. something.

He looked around the room while the annoying woman's voice talked on. They were all practically asleep. The one they called 'Sunshine Diaper Guy' was sitting upright in his motorized wheel chair, chin down at his chest, both arms curled around the handles. The one they called Gene was sitting in the middle of the couch intently watching the show (maybe), with a bowl of oatmeal or some other goop sitting on his lap untouched. Ernest was asleep, Faith was asleep, Daphne was drooling, and Pete was in the corner playing a game of chess with himself.

House and Wilson sat just beyond the tv viewing area, wheelchairs side by side "watching" the bumblebee show that one of the nurses had put on for them. No foul words, no backstabbing, no nudity, no anger, no reality, and no drama at all. Everything House loved in a good old fashioned tv show. The nurses figured one heart attack was one too many, so everyone suffered. Not like anybody was even aware of anything but House and Wilson.

"- Bumblebees are very hairy, but the underside of the abdomen has a bare patch, and so the heat from the queen's body-"

"That's it, I'm changing the channel." House spotted the remote sitting beneath the tv on a shelf and started wheeling himself in that general direction.

"Come on, bumblebees are.. interesting," Wilson called out to his back.

"Do these people look interested?" he turned his head to the side and asked back not stopping his crusade for the remote.

Wilson glanced around at all the oldies collapsed around the room and raised his eyebrow. He hadn't noticed before, but him and House were the only two people actually "watching" the television.

"And what are you going to put on, some horror movie with walking zombies stalking after young women with big breasts? You'll kill these guys!" Wilson motioned towards the room who had most likely not even heard a word he'd said.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?"

House put the remote on his lap and wheeled back over to Wilson, going around a couch to get back.

"Well I-"

"-You're nasty that's what you are, nasty, nasty Wilson."

"-I am not-"

"You're nasty and _old_. And I have just the show," House said and looked down at his watch to make sure his internal tv guide was right. The remote was held up and he flipped the channel.

Some sort of new-age pop/rap/techno stuff started blaring from the speakers and House upped the volume a few notches.The screen was newly covered with skin as young people danced on a beach wearing nothing but skimpy string bikinis and sunglasses.

"Don't you find this just a little bit creepy?" Wilson asked, but didn't tear his eyes from the screen. A cute blonde was getting some good air time.

"What," House asked, his eyes also sitting on the blonde, even though he preferred brunettes, really. But hell, he was 85 years old, he'd watch anything that didn't play bingo.

"When those girls were born, you were in your sixties. You could easily be one of those girls' great grandfather and not even know it," Wilson grinned to himself hoping that would spark a horrified response out of his aging friend, but nothing could horrify House. Except for the image of Cameron with white afro hair wearing floral Sunday dresses bouncing her grandkids on her knee when her arthritis would let her do it.

"But I'm not, so it doesn't make me as perverted as you," House said deviantly.

"What? Now I'm perverted? When did we come to that conclusion?"

"When I saw the look you were giving that hot little number Sandra, over dinner tonight," House took his attention off the television and pointed to a Japanese woman sitting in the corner of the room with a respirator hooked up to her face and an IV bag hanging on her left side.

Wilson snorted and was about to say something equally 'observant' when one of the oldies woke up and noticed the new program on the television.

"What happened to the bumblebee! I want the bumblebee, what did you do with the bumblebee!" Gene sat up wildly and shouted in a hoarse voice to the people on the television screen as if they had came and scared the cute bumblebees away while he had slept for 5 minutes.

"Calm down Grandpa, this is better. Maybe you could pick up a few tips to get it on with Grandma back in your room," House called out and settled back in his chair, remote still in his power.

"You're mean," Wilson smiled, took a sideways glance at him, and then back to the tv. Now the people on screen were _pretending_ to play summer sports like frisbee and volleyball.

"I'm helping another brother out, he needs to get laid."

"And when's the last time you got laid, huh?"

"About two minutes ago," House aanswered seriously and Wilson burst out in laughter not expecting to get that response at all. House smiled smugly and didn't even glance the whole time at Wilson.

"My granddaughter likes bumblebees, put it back on!" Gene said angrily from the couch not even looking to see who held the magic remote.

House rolled his eyes at the guy's desperation.

"Your granddaughter is probably thirty," House mumbled back, playing around with the remote in his right hand.

"Bumblebees!"

House sighed loudly, dramtically lifted up the remote and pressed 'last'. The british woman was back and now talking about the bumblebees' mating lifestyle.

"Well, at least the bees are having fun," Wilson sighed and said more to himself than his wheelchair buddy.

"Can you keep a secret?" House suddenly asked, cutting his 'heavy concentration' with the natonal geographic show and turned to Wilson.

Wilson looked at him wondering why he would even have to ask that question. Who was he going to tell?

"Of course."

House looked around the room to the left and right making sure nobody was even attempting to listen and then he leaned over his wheelchair handle, blue eyes as blue as winter ice.

"I'm breaking out of this joint," he said quietly and then looked around again for prying eyes and ears.

"You're what? You're breaking out of a Retirement Home, have you absolutely lost your mind?" Wilson asked and then he leaned in quickly, eyes narrowed, voice lowered, "You'll never make it. The watchtowers, the guards.."

House held up his hands, "I'll figure it out. Picture it Jimmy.. Pepperoni pizza, a few beers, good music." He looked up into space and Wilson joined as they both stared at an imaginary picture in the air.

Wilson tore away from the image and shook his head.

"No, you'll never make it-"

"Oh I'll make it, and you're coming with me."

"Why? I love retirement homes." Wilson could barely even get it out with a straight face.

"Fantastic. The plan goes down in my room at 0800 hours." House sat straight in his chair again and pretended to be engrossed with the bumblebee show, even making the faces to match his intense fascination.

Yes, Wilson thought, this was going to be...interesting.

**A/N:** Thanks to all the great reviews! I'm keeping this one light hearted, so if you see any stereotypes about Retirement Homes, then ignore them because this is just for some light reading :) I've never even been to a Home, so believe it or not, my only source of information for one is Grandpa Simpson's Retirement Castle on The Simpsons LOL.


	3. Day 1: 0800 Hours

_Sorry for the wait guys, I hope you even remember this story! I had a burst of inspiration and went with it. I love House and Wilson. Enjoy!_

**Day 1: 0800** **Hours**

House sat in his wheelchair bouncing a mini inflatable basketball across his room against the wooden door. He was at 150 bounces with still no nurse hobbling in with a nasty glare. The record had been 5462 before someone in the next room had smashed their walker up against the wall.

_Twap..twap.._ The door slammed open and the ball sailed over Wilson's head and smacked someone standing behind him in the chin. It bounced and rolled off along the floor into a corner.

The guy who got hit uttered a painful cry and went to rub his face.

House raised his eyebrow at Wilson who wheeled himself in.

"He followed me," he said quietly and shook his head. Gene stood by the door, still rubbing his face as he glared at his attacker behind his thick glasses.

"Well Gene, you're just in time for the party," House said with an animated grin and folded his hands over his lap. The man standing by the door almost looked frightened as he looked at the seemingly too happy House in the wheelchair. He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.

"Shut the door, no one else is invited," House said when Gene said nothing and he obeyed and shut the door, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

Wilson gave House a look as if to say, _'You're letting him stay?'_

House answered back aloud, "He can create one hell of a diversion."

"So what's your big idea that I had to leave the Spades game for?" Wilson asked not sounding the least bit interested in any possible plan House might have thought up in the last few hours.

House gave Wilson a dry look.

"Spades? I bet there was a gosh darnit big winning pot at the end of that game. So what was it, a couple Viagra pills and efferent-"

"On with it," Wilson sighed and rolled his eyes, barely noticing Gene still wiping at his face from the bed.

"Here's the secret plan," House stretched over the right side of his wheelchair handles and started groping around his bedside. He sat up fully holding a large board. "The plan is, that you guys think of the plan."

Wilson rolled his eyes and looked away. He was holding a mini white board and a black marker. Only House would keep one of those in his room.

"So Gene, whatta got?" House turned to the elderly man who looked.. well, sort of pissed off. As much as an old man could look pissed off anyway. Gene didn't respond. Wilson didn't move to look at silent Gene, and he looked down at a space on the floor and then shifted his eyes up at House who was now looking to Wilson for answers.

"Can't talk or something? What's his problem?"

Wilson shrugged and silently smirked not wanting to be rude and talk about Gene who was only three feet away from him.

"He seriously.. just followed me in here," he smirked again and kept his head down. Gene said nothing still.

House opened his eyes wide, rolled them, and mouthed the word "Oookay". He then turned the white board towards himself and scribbled something at the top.

"What are you writing?" Wilson moved his head a bit to see, even though that did absolutely no good. House ignored him, finished writing whatever he was writing and recapped the marker holding it in his right hand as he looked over at his fellow wheelchair mate smugly.

He flipped the white board around and Wilson squinted his eyes.. and then smirked loudly.

"Make a run for it? That's the best you could come up with?"

"It's as good idea as any."

"Do you seem to be forgetting the fact that we're stuck in these chairs here? Not to mention your leg hasn't exactly healed up in the last 40 years..And also the fact that-" Wilson reasoned, now looking off to the side as he trailed off with reasons why House's plan stunk.

"Fine, then we will make a _roll_ for it, satisfied?" House barked back and then flipped the white board back to facing him.

"That's it, I'm going back to the game.." Wilson rolled his eyes and starting turning his chair around to head for the door. Gene flipped his eyes back and forth between House and Wilson.

"Oh come ON, have a sense of humor. You're always telling me to act more like a decent human being aren't you."

Wilson have turned his head as he started out the door and called back, "Normal people don't break out of retirement homes, that's the difference." And then he was gone. Gene and House were alone.

"So Gene, when's the last time you rubbed one off? I've seen the way you look at Father Lucas."

Gene just looked at him.

House widened his eyes, turned his head and mouthed 'Ooookaay' again and avoided eye contact with the maniac in his room.

--

**1230 Hours**

Lunchtime was always interesting. Susan stood beside House holding a Jello cup. He looked around the lunch room at all of the oldies getting spoon fed brown slop and mashed taters. He looked at Wilson who sat beside him. A young nurse named Anna was delicately slipping green Jello down his throat.

"What are you doing, you don't need a nurse," House whispered sideways.

"Shh.." Wilson answered out the side of his mouth and smiled happily at Anna, who looked more like a porn store than a retirement nurse.

"Mr. House, are you going to have your Jello or not?"

His own nurse did not resemble a porn star in any way, shape, or form. She looked like she was older than he was. He stared.

"Mr. House!" She barked and place the hand that was holding a plastic spoon on her pudgy hip.

"No I will not take your disgusting Jello, but if you bring me a large kitchen knife, I will certainly put that to good use," he answered back smugly. The nurse scoffed, slammed the Jello and spoon down in front of him and stalked away. Victory. He tore into his Jello.

"Hey Jimmy." House stared into his snack and popped a large spoonful into his mouth. Wilson ignored him completely. House took another bite and looked at his friend.

"Anna dear, I don't think it's very safe to give our pal Jimmy an erection in his fragile and weak condition, do you? Now scoot." House shooed her away with his spoon. She gave him a look. Wilson shrugged his shoulders and she left the table.

"I can't believe you did that, now what other entertainment do I have in this place," Wilson ate the last of his Jello and put the empty cup and spoon side by side in front of him.

"You can use your magnificent rotting old brain to think up a plan to get out of here, that's what you can do." House finished his Jello and put down the empty container. He made an "Ahh" sound and patted his belly.

"What, we can hide in the laundry baskets, is that what you want to hear?"

"Now that's just a stupid plan. Even mine was better than that. Try harder. I'm disappointed in you." House said and looked down at his empty Jello container. His stomach rumbled. "Another Jello over here!" he raised his arm and called to anybody. No response. He swore.

"Fine, we'll stage a wheelchair race and just slam through the doors and roll our way to freedom," Wilson smirked at the image.

"Now that my friend, is not such a bad idea."

A wheelchair pulled up directly behind the two. A man sat there, arms draped over the handles. He had a large birthmark that covered half of his head, and House made a face openly when he saw it.

"You have mold on your face, gah!" he exclaimed. Wilson sucked in air at House's comment and gave the man a small smile. Duke was a mean Spades player. He wasn't so bad.

"I overheard you guys talking about breaking out of this joint, can I come with?" Duke leaned in and whispered as if it was the most important conversation of his life.

"No," House said simply and turned his head forwards again, still trying his life to get another damned Jello cup.

"Don't listen to him, he's off his medication. There's no plan or anything," Wilson assured the birthmark man. His face fell. House snapped his head back to Wilson's direction.

"For your information, I have jars and jars of medication in my room (want any hookups) and I know exactly what I'm talking about. We're breaking out of here. You and me. Jimmy and Greg. Wheelchair superheros in crime." House crossed his arms. Wilson smirked.

"So I bet you're Batman, and I'm Robin, is that it?"

"Naturally. You couldn't be Batman."

"Why couldn't I be Batman?"

"Your.. hair is all wrong to be Batman."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"..Your legs look more Robin-y too.. in fact.."

"Hey, you'd be wearing tights too! What kind of superhero is a limping Batman?"

"They find the limp sexy though. Nobody thinks Robin is sexy."

"Weren't Batman and Robin gay?"

Silence.

"So anyway, Duke, you say you want to join the club?" Wilson snapped his head to the man watching the idiotic conversation. Duke nodded and thumbed behind him to 4 other wheelchairs.

"My posse too." He grinned.

"Oh for crying out loud," House let his head fall back and said to the sky.

"Did I hear you guys are getting out of here?" A new voice, Jane stood above them, another retirement member in the club.

"No, we aren't!" House said loudly, hoping all of them would hear and go back to the show that was playing on the television demonstrating the bed that goes up and down and fits tv eating trays with 'ease'.

"We aren't? But I thought you were Batman?" Wilson questioned.

"Will you drop the Batman thing already? I'm actually Superman. Superman doesn't have a whiny sidekick." There. Burn.

"..Doesn't Superman have Lois Lane..?"

"So what, you're Lois Lane, is that what you're telling me?"

Silence.

"So Duke, you're in," Wilson said to Duke, totally ignoring House again. House sighed louder than necessary and looked at the ceiling.

--


End file.
